Courting Morrow Little: A Novel (27 page)

In moments Pa appeared in the doorway, telling her it was
time to go. Having admired the new baby when they'd first arrived, he now seemed anxious to return home. Or was his news
for her making him hasty?

She mounted the gentle Dollie, while beside her Pa's black
stallion snorted and stomped, making the mare shy away. Pa had
some trouble bringing him round, but at last they rode out. Signs
of the coming summer were everywhere, wending the season's
spell in the honeysuckle and blackberry vine, in the thickly leafed trees and strengthening slant of the sun. But the beauty was lost
to her as she waited to hear what it was Pa had to say.

"Robbie wants to wed you at week's end, Morrow. At our
cabin:"

Setting her jaw again, she simply nodded, eyes drifting to
the rutted excuse of a road as they climbed a gentle swell of
bluegrass and the fort disappeared from sight. He seemed to
choose his words carefully as if knowing they would nettle her.
"He wants no witnesses"

Beneath the brim of her straw hat, her pale face felt strained.
"I ... Major McKie shouldn't know"

He nodded. "There might be trouble, feeling as he does about
you. I don't like wedding you under such circumstances. It's not
as I hoped it would be .."

Not as you hoped? The bitter thought brought about a rush
of emotion so intense she had to bite her tongue to stem her
tears. Turning her face away, she felt for her handkerchief, grateful as they moved into the newly leafed shadow of an oak so he
couldn't see her struggle. She was days away from being wed.
Given this, why couldn't she put down these confusing feelings about Red Shirt? Why, as the days passed, was her heart
so completely his?

"I'm glad of one thing, he told her. "When I see how you are
with Little Eli and now Lizzy's babe, I know without a doubt
you were meant to be a mother. A wife"

Shamed, she looked away. How could she give voice to the
fact that she'd already given in to the sweetness of both? In her
heart of hearts, she was already wed. And it wasn't Robbie Clay
she'd surrendered to ...

"With you married, I won't have to worry about returning you
to Philadelphia should I go to the prisoner exchange with Red
Shirt," Pa said. "Being on the trail in peaceful times is grueling.
In times of war. . " She glanced at his bearded profile beneath the shadow of his felt hat, knotting her hands in her lap, trying
to stem her turmoil. "I'll say no more except that I'll be glad to
see you settled:"

He began to cough so hard she had to take his reins. His words
washed over her, stirring up new worries instead of settling them.
She was marrying to please him, to gain an extra hand about
the farm. But he'd soon be gone, leaving her tethered to a man
she didn't love. And pining for the man she did.

Her wedding day dawned clear, sunlight streaming in and
waking her long before she wanted. Full of birdsong, it seemed
to mock her with its bright beauty. She'd hardly slept, thinking
it the last night alone in her bedroom. Sitting on the edge of
the feather tick that had hardly held Red Shirt, she let her mind
roam in shameless ways. Perhaps tonight, my wedding night, if
I shut my eyes ... I could pretend ...

She eyed the chamber pot, thinking she might be sick again.
How would she ever make it till four o'clock, the appointed time?
Across the room her wardrobe yawned open as if awaiting her
choice of a wedding dress. The day before, she'd tried to pick a
gown, her reluctant hands avoiding the velvet. It hung unworn,
a testament to things loved and lost. Perhaps she'd make her
firstborn a little gown from it-a christening dress. But even the
thought of that hurt her, and she shut it away.

She heard the closing of the door below as Pa went out. Was
he as restless as she? They hadn't spoken of what would happen
this day, but it seemed to be all they thought about, the prospect
hovering like a storm cloud between them. Surely he sensed
the upheaval in her heart. Over the years he'd wed so many
couples-for all sorts of reasons. Perhaps he hoped that, given
time, she'd grow to love Robbie. Or had he, like she, realized
her true feelings and seen this as the only choice?

Lord, help me be a willing bride. Help me toforget about what
I can't have and be thankful for whats before me.

"You look lovely, Morrow."

As she came down the stairs at half past three, Pa stood at
the hearth in a pressed shirt and black breeches. The brocade
waistcoat she'd made him at Christmas fit a bit loosely, but his
linen stock was neatly folded in ivory lines, making him look
every inch the earnest pastor. She tried to smile at him through
her tears, taking a quick glance about the cabin to make sure
Robbie hadn't come yet.

The front door was open, and a warm breeze stirred the fine
yellow cloth of her dress. It cascaded around her, the hem a bit
too long, but beribboned and lacy as a bride's dress should be.
She'd wanted to wear a veil like Lizzy had done, if only to hide
her distress. Beneath its lacy folds, Robbie wouldn't notice if
she cried or trembled or was pale. But the east side of the cabin
had turned up little in that way, so she'd remained bareheaded
... and bare hearted.

"Don't you want some flowers, Morrow? There are some early
roses budding around the side of the cabin;' he told her.

But she simply shook her head, clutching an embroidered
handkerchief.

"Did you speak to Lizzy-anyone-about this?" he asked.

"No, Pa"

Only Joe knew, and he was remarkably closemouthed where
they were concerned. Going to the hearth, she sat down in her
chair. He took his own seat across from her, and she realized
they had no third place for Robbie. Perhaps he'd bring some of
his own things from the fort. But the idea of him sitting there,
breaking in on the circle she and Pa had shared for so many
years, struck her as strange. Deep down she knew he didn't
belong here, but what was she to do?

"Morrow, I need to talk to you ... about a wife's duty to her
husband:'

Duty? His pained tone set off every alarm bell inside her.
Heat flooded her face, and she felt she might be sick again. "Pa
... please"

"I know it's a woman's place to tell you about such things" He
reached up and loosened his too-tight stock, color high. "Since
you're lacking a mother's influence, I'll have to do what I can"

Oh, why hadn't she asked Lizzy? She was woefully ignorant
about these matters of the heart, yet having Pa tell her such
things made matters worse, not better.

"A husband has certain-"

She shut her eyes, hearing the drum of horse hooves crossing the clearing. Pa was spared his sermonizing, at least. With
a last look at her, he pulled himself out of his chair and went
outside to meet Robbie while she stood on shaking legs. Oh
Lord, help me! She felt she was sinking in a pit of despair and
desire, longing for one man while giving herself to another. And
she knew it was wrong-a lie, a cruel deception she wouldn't
want inflicted on anyone. She felt sudden sympathy for Jacob,
who'd mistakenly wed the unlovely Leah instead of his beloved
Rachel. Had his grief been as great? Reaching out a hand, she
clutched the arm of her chair.

Lord, help me do what pleases You. And Pa.

She braced herself for what she'd pledged to do, but it wasn't
Robbie's voice she heard across the threshold, just Joe's. His
gruffness reached clear inside the cabin, calling her out onto
the porch. She stood in the doorway, looking out at them in the
greening yard, trying to hear what it was they said.

Pa turned to her, face grim. "There's to be no wedding, Morrow, at least not today."

She leaned against the door frame, light-headed with shock.
No wedding ... no wedding night. No pretending to be will ing. She started trembling again, this time out of profound
gratitude.

Joe came to stand under the porch eave, one cheek swollen
with tobacco. "Accordin' to Abe, Lysander got wind that Robbie
was going to marry you and took it to the major. And McKie,
smitten with you like he is, decided he needed a few more men
on this next foray, so Robbie was pressed into service'

Pa stifled a cough. "Where's McKie headed, Joe?"

"Across the Ohio. Abe's been left in charge of the fort while
they're away. He ain't sure how long this campaign's going to
be. Months, maybe"

"Sounds like they're moving into Shawnee territory like McKie
planned"

"That's what I suspect, Joe said.

Pa passed a hand over his beard. "I suppose this means the
prisoner exchange is off."

Leaning over, Joe spat into the grass. "I wouldn't get your
hopes up about anything peaceable happenin' once McKie
crosses that river."

Morrow looked at Pa, saw him struggle to maintain his composure in the face of such crushing news, and her heart twisted.
Turning away, she hurried inside and up the steps to her room
to shed her dress. A dozen different thoughts rumbled through
her mind, leaving her breathless and spent. She was stunned
and sorry Robbie had been waylaid by McKie, yet so elated by
the delay she felt ashamed. But she knew her gladness was to
be short-lived. When Robbie returned ... what then?

Opening her wardrobe, she reached into its shadowed corner
and took out the fur wrap. With a prayer for forgiveness on her
lips, she buried her face in its softness and wept, her feelings so
tangled she couldn't begin to unravel them.

Where, Morrow wondered, had summer gone? To find her answer, she had only to take stock of the cribbed corn, the abundance of root vegetables stored in straw in the springhouse,
the first kegs of cider and salted meat. With the harvest in,
everything seemed to have ground to a halt. There were no
more letters from Aunt Etta. No more news of McKie away on
the foray that had halted her wedding to Robbie Clay. No word
from Surrounded or Red Shirt. Everything on the Red River was
sameness and stillness and peace. Though she remained calm
on the surface, she was worn with worry underneath. Awaiting
word of Robbie Clay's return seemed to strip away her joy bit
by bit. Every day left her thinking the same thing. This could be
the hour he came back. Any moment they might wed.